I was sitting in the waiting area of the clinic when I heard a voice that I had believed I had left behind for good. It pierced through the noise of the other people. My ex-boyfriend, who was beaming as if he had just won the lottery, walked in with his wife, who was quite pregnant, and made a rude remark, saying, “She gave me kids when you never could.” My return would leave him in a state of disbelief, but he had no idea.
While I was holding my appointment paper, I looked at the posters that were affixed to the walls of the women’s health clinic. These posters were advertising prenatal courses and fertility exams.
My stomach twisted with a mixture of nervousness and excitement that I was expecting. When I thought about all that had happened to me, this visit seemed like the beginning of something wonderful.
While I was reading through my phone, I suddenly heard a voice that I hadn’t heard in years because it pierced through the room like a dull blade:
“Wow, take a look at who’s here! “At long last, you’re going to seek medical attention, huh?”
My heart sunk to it. That voice, which was oozing with the same smugness that used to pervade our kitchen during those terrible conflicts, was heard throughout those times.
While I was looking up, I saw that Jake, my ex-husband, was smiling as if he had been anticipating this moment for an eternity.
In only 10 years, you would not be able to handle having two children, but my new wife has already given me two of them!
He was surprised when a lady emerged from behind him, her stomach round and most likely eight months pregnant.
“She is right here!” When Jake was laying his palm on her stomach, he puffed himself out like a proud peacock. My wife, Tara, is seen here! Finally, the third one is on its way!
I was punched in the belly by his smile, which was like a punch.
The arrogant look that he gave me sent me back ten years.
I had just turned 18 years old when Jake first took notice of me. I was the shy girl who believed that being chosen by the popular man was the equivalent of winning the jackpot.
I was young and naive enough to assume that love was like those stupid “Love Is…” mugs that were in my grandmother’s kitchen; it consisted of just holding hands and smiling for the rest of our lives. I was not informed about the confrontations that occurred over empty cribs.
We tied the knot shortly after we graduated from high school, and my aspirations of a fairy tale were dashed in an instant.
Jake did not want a wife; rather, he wanted a maid who could produce kids whenever he desired them. Each and every holiday served as a reminder that the nursery was still vacant, and every calm meal turned into a courtroom.
During each month, it seemed as if the walls of that home were becoming closer.
Having each pregnancy test come up negative was like receiving a judgment that I wasn’t a woman enough.
During those gloomy meals, the only sound that could be heard was the metallic clang of forks hitting plates. “If you could just do your job,” he would murmur. His accusatory gaze penetrated more deeply than any ranting could ever hope to do. “What is it that’s off with you?”
Those remarks persisted throughout my twenties, resonating in my head whenever I saw a stroller or when a friend made an announcement about a kid.
What is the most terrible aspect? I was a believer in it.
For years, I have been carrying that grief, and I have shed tears over each negative test because I, too, wanted to have a child. To Jake, however, my pain was only evidence that I was damaged.
His statements wore away at me until I felt as if I was nothing at all.
After years of being poisoned by his resentment, I finally decided to pursue something for myself.
It was at a community college that I decided to enroll in courses at night. Within the haze of his never-ending guilt, I had managed to seize hold of a fantasy of obtaining a job and constructing a life that extended beyond the confines of our quiet home.
After I indicated that I was interested in studying graphic design, he referred to me as “selfish.” “It is expected of you to be concentrating on providing me with a child. Next thing you know, your lessons will throw off the timetable you had set for ovulation. And then what?”
Even though I didn’t get a response, I still decided to join.
That was eight years into our marriage at that point. It was not until I had been the terrible guy for two more years that I reached my breaking point.
Despite the fact that my hands were shaking, I finally felt like I could breathe again when I signed the divorce papers. It seemed like I had finally broken free when I left that lawyer’s office.
Jake had returned, and he was prepared to start up where he had left off, ripping me down to make me feel like a big deal.
A familiar hand, which was warm and solid, dropped on my shoulder as I was attempting to pull myself together for the moment.
What is this, sweetheart? Who is it? Holding a water bottle and a cup of coffee from the clinic café, my spouse inquired about the matter. His tone of speech had that protecting quality that I had grown to like. When he observed my look, his face made a tightening motion.
Jake cast a peek in his direction, and his arrogant expression changed from one of surprise to one that seemed to be terror.
My present husband, Ryan, was six feet four inches tall, built like he could still play college basketball, and had a calm power that did not need him to flaunt it off.
I said while maintaining my composure, “This is my ex-husband, Jake,” as I saw Jake’s neck bob as he took a deep breath. “Just trying to catch up.”
A little grin appeared on my face as I looked at Jake.
“It’s interesting that you saw me here and thought I was being tested. I was really just testing myself. Consider the fact that I went to a reproductive expert during the last year of our sad marriage… “As it might turn out, I’m doing just fine,” I said. As a matter of fact, I had the impression that you came here to be checked out since it seems that your swimmers did not make it to the party.
Those words lingered in the air like a slap.
His jaw fell forward. In the midst of a downpour, the smugness wiped away from his face like dust.
“There is no way! But that is not the case…” He was stuttering, and his voice was cracking. “You were the source of the issue! Take a look at her! He indicated Tara’s stomach with his finger. It seems as like my swimmers aren’t functioning properly, doesn’t it?
Suddenly, Tara’s hand was placed on her tummy, and her face became as white as a pillow. Her appearance suggested that she had been taken in by a snare.
I said in a low voice, “Your wife does not appear to be so certain.” I’m going to venture a guess and say that those adorable children of yours don’t look too much like you, Jake. Are you persuading yourself that they are a reflection of their mother?
It was as if I had touched a nerve. As he turned around to give Tara a look, Jake’s face flushed a bright scarlet color.
Her voice was shaking as she hushed, “Babe,” she said. It is not what you believe it to be. You have my love. Sincerely, I do.”
I cocked my head to the side and looked at them as if they were a riddle that I had just finished solving. “You certainly do. The children in question do not seem to be his, however. To tell you the truth, I don’t blame you; it could have been simpler to visit a sperm bank, but at least you discovered a means to keep him quiet about having children.
It was a weighty quiet here. Jake seemed to be a child who had been disoriented in a busy shopping mall, since he had lost all of his confident attitude.
He murmured, “Oh, the children…” “My children…”
“Whose children are these?” I inquired with a tone that was soft yet piercing.
As soon as that happened, Tara began to weep, the kind of silent cries that occur when your whole world is turned upside down. She had a trail of mascara running down her face.
“For how much longer?” In a tone that was scarcely audible, Jake inquired of her. How long have you been deceiving me with your lies?
At that same moment, as if the whole world were directing a movie, a nurse opened the door and introduced herself by saying, “Ma’am? Our team is prepared to perform your first ultrasound.
The time was just ideal. Right at that moment, I was on the verge of meeting my child, while Jake’s life was falling apart like a cheap deck of cards.
As he wrapped his arm over my shoulders, Ryan’s embrace was both warm and firm.
In the process of walking toward the door together, we left them in a quiet that was so dense that it might shatter glass.
I did not turn around to look back. Would I do that?
After three weeks, I was folding some little onesies when I heard a buzzing sound on my phone.
“Are you aware of what you’ve gone through?” I took up Jake’s mother, and she let out a scream. “Paternity tests were performed on him! He does not have any of those children! Not a single one! Today, he is going to divorce that girl! Despite the fact that she is eight months pregnant, he has booted her out!
As I smoothed out a small blue onesie with stars on it, I replied while maintaining my composure, “That sounds rough.”
“Is that rough? That was the end of everything! He had a soft spot for the children!
It would have been better for him to be tested years ago rather than blaming me for everything, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t be in this problem, would he? When I spoke, my tone was as solid as a rock. “Jake appears to have just received a significant amount of karma,”
“You have no compassion,” she spat forth. Your actions have ruined a family.
I ended the call and disabled her phone number. I then sat in the nursery, surrounded by baby clothing and hope, and laughed until my cheeks were wet with tears. I was surrounded by baby clothes and optimism.
As I caressed my expanding tummy, I could feel a warm tiny fluttering sensation.
It’s my little one. I had been dreaming of having a kid for years, and it was confirmation that I was never the issue.
It is not uncommon for the truth to strike like a sledgehammer. There are moments when justice is there in front of you and speaks with your voice.
What’s more, there are instances when the finest kind of retribution is just living your life to the fullest so that when your past attempts to damage you, it ends up destroying itself instead.
